Is age just a number?
My knee would never clap for this claim
Hey there, fellow mid-thirty-something!
Yep, that’s you, teetering right between “Damn, I was (and let’s be real, still am) young!” and “Who invited these gray hairs to the party?” — this chat’s aimed right at your youthful, albeit occasionally creaky, heart. Now, if you’re floating toward forty or beyond with knees that whisper instead of shout, first off, what sorcery is this? Seriously, we’ll need your secrets after class. But hold off on the “I’ve always been flexible” humble brags for a sec. This is a call-out to the vast majority of us on planet Earth, the proud members of the “My body cracks more than my morning cereal” crew. Sit down, grab a cup of coffee (or perhaps an anti-inflammatory for that back pain), and let’s have a little chat.
Remember when we used to say, “Age is just a number”? Oh, the naivety! I'd love to see you chant that mantra when trying to rise from the couch and your knee sounds like popcorn popping.
Don’t get me wrong. The 30s are awesome! Now, I feel more confident, more free. I've got a ton of experience, and honestly, I'm soaking up every moment. That liberating sensation of not giving a damn about what others think? Ah, it’s divine! I've never felt so secure with a massive “SCREW IT” turned on towards everyone else’s opinions.
But dude, no one warned me about the weird stuff that would start happening to my body. Like, why do I suddenly have back pain when I’m just trying to grab the remote? And why have my knees decided to stage a mini-revolt against me? By the way, sometimes I feel like a terrible mom. Do you know why? When my youngest daughter is watching YouTube Kids, I deliberately skip the song “Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes”. There’s no better way to feel utterly ridiculous than trying to dance to that tune with my knees cracking like firecrackers. And they don’t let up! It’s KNEES AND TOES, KNEES AND TOES on a never-ending loop. If I danced to this, I would “knee”d help.
Speaking of revolts, remember those epic nights when the party would start on Thursday and only end on Sunday? I recall. I’d head into work practically turned inside out on Friday and feel on top of the world. Now? One single night out — let me detail my drama: from 8 pm to 11 pm, wrapping up when, back in the day, the party was just getting started — drinking (nowadays just 2–3 glasses does the trick, haha) with friends, and I wake up feeling like I’ve been run over by a truck. A hangover that lasted a few hours? Please, now it overstays its welcome for an entire week!
All in all, life after 30 is a rollercoaster. One moment you're feeling like the king or queen of the world, and the next, you're trawling through YouTube tutorials on how to properly stretch your back. But you know what? I wouldn’t trade this experience for anything. Even with all the aches and weird noises my body makes, I'm living the best phase of my life.
So, to my dear knees: I apologize for all the extra work. But honestly? Brace yourselves. Because we’ve got a ton of life left ahead. And I plan on dancing through it all – even if it's a bit of a limping dance! 😉
"Age is just a number. It’s totally irrelevant unless, of course, you happen to be a bottle of wine." — Joan Collins